


Tell Me a Story

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To pass the time as they wait to escape from THRUSH, Illya tells Napoleon a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me a Story

“Tell me a story.”

“At a time like this?”

“Take my mind off stuff.  A ghost story, I think.  Something with howling winds and driving rains.”

“In short, nothing like here and now.”

“Exactly.  It should be dark and cold and the heroes desperate.”

“I’m desperate all right, especially if we can’t stop that bleeding.”

“You know what I mean.  There should be someone in peril.”

“I vote you.  I’m tired of being the one in peril.”

“Okay, that seems fair...  but it needs to have a ghost or a monster or something scary.”

“I volunteer my paycheck.  It always fills me with dread.”

“I’m serious.”

“As am I, Napoleon.  Have you seen the deductions lately?  What happens to all the money they take out for our retirement fund when we die in battle, as it was… as it is?  Are you sure your communicator is dead?”

“Broken antennae.  Yours?”

“Water in it.”

“So, Mr. Kuryakin, since we are stuck here, play right.”

“Are we playing?”

“I am.  So, a proper ghost story.”

“Is it the rattling of chains sort of ghost or more of a poltergeist?”

“I don’t know, Illya.  Which one is scarier to you?”

“Neither.  I don’t fear the dead.  I was raised to believe that our ancestors watch over and protect us.  They guide us and keep us on the right path.”

“In my faith, we call them guardian angels.  And whatever you call them, yours must be working overtime.”

“Funny.  I am more concerned with the living, especially the living with guns, like the ones out there.  How many more clips do you have?”

“Three and you’re down to two.  So, where do you think ghosts come from?”

“Their parents?  Put more pressure on that.  Don’t sigh like that. You’ll throw your back out again and I’m not carrying you.”

“I’m trying and I’d carry you.”

“I’m lighter and more worth the effort.”

“So you say.  Okay, so we have our person in peril, our gallant, handsome and disgustingly brilliant hero –“

“You picked me as the hero.”

“Stop interrupting and in your dreams.  The wind is howling, the rain is soaking them to their bones and that’s when they hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“A noise they can’t identify…shhhh, _stunk_ … shhh, _stunk_... as if a heavy burden was being dragged.”

“Napoleon, wait.  Did you hear that?”

“Funny—“

“I’m not joking.  Just be quiet for a moment… nothing, I guess it’s my nerves.”

“A bleed out between friends will do that.  Maybe it’s my ghost story.”

“I thought I was supposed to be telling it.”

“You snooze, you lose.  So they are trapped.  There is a rumble of thunder, thunder so loud it drowns out their own heartbeats.  In the resulting blast of eerie blue lightning--”

“Other way round.  First lightning and then thunder.”

“You’re ruining my story, stop interrupting. What’s wrong now?”

“I heard something… and I’m not kidding.”

“Okay, Illya, you sit tight.  I’m going to look around. “

“Dumb move.  We go together.”

“What are you going to do?  Bleed on them?  You keep pressure on that and I’ll be right back…”

“Don’t… Napoleon.  If you get killed, I’m going to tell Waverly.”

“He’ll already know.”

“Stupid… at least don’t go far… Napoleon?  Damn it…   What?  Napoleon, if this is your idea of a joke… it isn’t funny.  At least let me bleed to death in peace and quiet and don’t try to scare me.  I’m serious; there is nothing scary especially in the middle of a sunny, dry afternoon… don’t pass out… don’t…”

“What?  Where did those clouds and that wind come from?   Damn it, I must have… What time… three hours?  Napoleon, where are you?  Thunder?  Lightning? Now it’s going to rain on us…  You up there, you‘re supposed to watch over us.  Why is it we never catch a break?  Napoleon?”

                                                            ^^^^

“Illya?”

“Over here.  Follow the drag marks if you can still see them.  I heard thunder and figured I’d better get under cover.  Where the hell have you been?”

“You missed me?”

“Only after the first hour… then I figured, or rather hoped, that you had taken shelter before it was too late.”

“It already is too late for some of us.”

“What do you mean?’

“You remember those three THRUSH agents shooting at us?”

“Vividly… some parts remember more than others.”

“They’re dead, Illya.”

“What do you mean, they’re dead?  We hit them or did you--?”

“A lighting strike.  They were out in the open and holding those big, shiny metal lightning rods they call rifles.  They spotted me and stood up to shoot.  I dove for cover and knocked myself out on a rock.  Lightning always heads for the tallest point to strike.  When I came to, they were all crispy critters.”

“But where did that storm come from?  Don’t you find it odd that you are talking about a storm and there’s suddenly a storm?”

“Maybe those ancestors of yours decided we were worth keeping around for a little while longer.  Or it could be that afternoon storms are frequent here.  The feel of the air sort of reminded me of back home just before a big storm moved in.  So have you been doing anything interesting while I was out upholding justice and being rendered unconscious?”

“Here.”

“What’s this?”

“While you were taking your snooze, I cannibalized both communicators and I think that one will work now.  I think it’s time to go home.”

“Good thinking, partner.  Open Channel D, priority one, agent down.”


End file.
